


Wintersong

by elisende



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Banter, F/M, Holidays, Multi, POV Original Character, Promiscuity, Sexual Inexperience, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisende/pseuds/elisende
Summary: A plucky young bard and her companions are stranded in a terrible blizzard on Midwinter day.  When a master druid comes to their aid, the tiefling tumbler takes full advantage of the situation.
Relationships: Halsin (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Wintersong

The Risen Road was treacherous in winter. They would never have taken the risk if not for the promise of rich rewards in Baldur’s Gate; a duke’s commission was not to be lightly refused. And the prospect of a Midwinter feast at a Baldurian noble’s table was impossible to resist after the lean months that followed harvest.

Lanna did not travel alone, though the invitation, she noted with pride, was addressed to her. Lanna, Bard of Elturel. Heavily creased from repeated folding and unfolding, it rested against her hip in the pockets tied under the waist of her skirts, like a charm or a love letter. Thick wool skirts, of fine quality and brightly dyed, edged in copper thread. It had been a good year. 

It seemed as though they would reach Baldur’s Gate without incident; indeed, they might have pushed on last evening and reached the city by midnight. But they had tempted the gods, camped, and made merry celebration in anticipation of a triumphant arrival the following morning. Or early afternoon--none who plied their trade in a tavern was an early riser.

Instead, fortune pissed on them. 

While they slept away the ale and sour wine, the heavens opened and buried them under no less than three feet of claggy snow. It rose past the wheel wells of the wagon, up to the mule’s chest. The shock of it hitting her bare legs beneath her skirt stole Lanna’s breath from her body.

“By the nine hells, we’re well and truly fucked this time,” said her companion Dusk, a tiefling tumbler, frantically trying to dig out the buried provisions they’d left by the fire. But there was little use, for they’d eaten (and drunk) nearly everything last night.

“Properly,” Lanna agreed. She didn’t fancy eating mule but it seemed likely to come to that. The snow was still falling in thick sheets and even once it ceased, it would take several days’ thaw to melt enough to move again. “Is the er, ranger awake?” She blushed as she said it and not because of any attraction to the grizzled ex-paladin who was their protection on the road. But because she’d lain awake much of the small hours, listening to the mercenary make the tiefling acrobat moan. Cheap wine and the dangers of the highway made stranger bedfellows, perhaps, but certainly not more vociferous ones.

“Doubt it. I kept him up rather late last night,” the tiefling said, a smirk playing over her lips. Dusk was her stage name, and Lanna felt silly calling her by it, yet she refused to share her true name. 

Lanna looked back to the buried wagon; a chill ran through her that had little to do with the snow settling onto her shoulders. “We’re going to die out here if we don’t move.”

Ebbo Lovewell, a halfling strummer who was both her accompanist and the intermission act, was completely submerged by the snow but doughtily attempted to construct an ice cave, insisting that somehow it would be warmer inside. He was frisking around, tossing clods of snow in the air, when a trio of figures approached from the woods that abutted the road.

“On your guard,” Lanna said to Dusk, though none of them carried weapons and their protection was apparently still unconscious in his half-buried tent. “Ebbo, be still!”

The figures seemed massive from a distance, like frost giants. She fought the urge to panic. 

“Should we hide?” whispered Dusk, clutching her arm. The tiefling had a strong grip and her black lacquered nails dug into Lanna’s wool jacket. 

“No use,” Lanna said. Her bard training kept her voice steady even as terror gripped her. The stories she’d heard of murdered travellers on this road were numberless as they were grisly. “We’ll have to hope they’re friendly. And if not, try to talk our way out of it.”

“We may need to offer our bodies in exchange for safe passage,” Dusk said, looking rather excited by the prospect. “Or perhaps they’re slavers who will sell us into the servitude of a great drow lord of the Underdark whose cruelty is only matched by his beauty.”

Lanna rolled her eyes. “ _Not_ the time,” she hissed.

“Oh, but that is clever,” Ebbo said, squinting into the blizzard’s gust. “They’re walking on the surface of the snow.” It was true: they were wearing broad, paddle-like shoes to stride across the surface of the packed snow, which accounted for their stature. “I’ll have to commit the design to memory. Assuming we survive this encounter.”

Dusk half-laughed, beginning to look truly nervous. Lanna’s heart gave a sickening lurch as they approached. She wasn’t ready to die: the thought arose as pure as the snow all around them. 

“Well met!” a baritone voice boomed from the largest figure. Even without the advantage of three feet of snow he would have towered over them. Lanna blinked against the falling flakes, trying to see beneath the figure’s furs, but he was completely obscured.

“Merry Midwinter to you, good sir!” Dusk said, with a jaunty little bow. Or as close to one as could be managed, hip deep in snow.

The figure laughed, a deep booming laugh with all the warmth of a bonfire. “Stranded, are you? You’ll not dig out of this anytime soon. You’re welcome in our grove, if you’re in need of refuge.” 

“That is most generous,” Lanna said. She wished she could see into his face; she was a good read of people and would have liked to take the measure of his intentions before she accepted. But what choice did they have? She looked back to the shivering mule, the wagon vanishing into the snow, and poor Ebbo, buried up to his cap. “We humbly accept.”

“Excellent! How many are you? We’ll need to carry you, somehow. I do not see any other way, in this blizzard.”

“Oh, you can carry me, I’m quite light,” Dusk said. “And limber.” She held out her arms, both as invitation and display. Lanna tutted under her breath. But their rescuer, whoever--and whatever--he was, just laughed again.

“Not another step. Back, villains! Back, I say!” The fallen paladin had emerged from the tent in his small clothes wearing his heavy helmet. She supposed it was the only armor he had in the tent with him. 

The giant figure lifted his hands but she could hear amusement in his voice as he said, “Ho, friend. I’m here to rescue, not to raid.”

“A likely story,” their guard said, his voice slightly muffled through his helm. Lanna mashed her palm to her face. 

“Oh, come off it Dunfric,” Dusk said, in an altogether different tone than she’d used with their towering rescuer. 

“Stand back, my lady Dusk! I shall compel this… this… malefactor with the might of my sword in your defense.”

“Truly, there’s no need for that, friend,” the figure said. “I am Halsin, Master Druid of the Emerald Grove.” Lanna tucked away this information for future contemplation. She knew many songs about druids but had never had the opportunity to meet one. “It would be our honor to host you, Sir...? Dunfric, was it?”

Dunfric straightened and mustered his dignity, such that it was. “How do you do, Master Druid? But we have no need for your assistance--”

“I’ve already accepted the druid’s invitation,” Lanna cut in. “Thank you very much. We’re four. Plus the mule, and sadly few provisions.”

She felt her color rising as the druid Halsin regarded her. “A tiefling woman, a human male, a halfling… and a human woman.” He looked to his companions. “Inwe and Kagha may carry Dunfric and your halfling companion. But we’ll be too heavy to walk on the snow if I carry both of you. We’ll need to wait here and take a second trip.”

Dusk and Dunfric spoke at the same time; the tiefling readily agreeing and the ex-paladin protesting in the strongest terms.

“There is no other way,” Lanna said, frustration threatening to boil over. “We’ll waste no more time arguing.”

Dusk smiled and tossed her hair fetchingly as the other druids hefted the halfling, who was already peppering them with questions, and the sulking Dunfric.

Once they’d vanished over the brow of the hill, Dusk turned to their mysterious rescuer. “Whatever shall we do while we wait?” she asked. Her eyes wide and innocent. Lanna shook her head. The masked druid could be a minotaur and Dusk would still try to seduce it.

“Let’s get out of this weather and wait in the wagon,” Lanna said. “ _All_ of us.”

Dusk smirked and wiggled an eyebrow and Lanna shook her head vehemently when the druid wasn’t looking. But the tiefling just nodded back, slowly. Lanna raised her hands skyward and shook them silently at the gods. None could say she didn’t have a penchant for drama; she was a bard, after all.

“Here we are, master druid,” Dusk said once they had settled in the wagon, shoulder to shoulder. It was a tight squeeze, for the druid was fantastically tall and broad about the shoulders. Dusk handed him a little cup of brandy, left over from last night’s debauchery. When the druid lowered his furred hood, Lanna couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath. He was ruggedly handsome, an elf but like no elf she had met (not that she had known many.) Even in the dim, wintery light of the wagon she could see the scars that lanced across his jaw, his brow, only enhancing his feral beauty. Her mouth grew dry and she realized it was hanging open.

Dusk outright grinned at her reaction and Lanna quickly looked around for something to busy herself with. Did her lute need tuning? It did not but Master Halsin didn’t know that. She repeated his name silently to herself as she fussed with the pegs of her rosewood lute, her most prized possession.

“You are a bard, then?” Halsin said. His voice resounded in the timbers of the wagon, rich and full as good red wine. 

Lanna was clumsy in her speech, a rare experience. “I am. I didn’t--how rude, that I didn’t introduce myself. Earlier, I mean. When we met.”

Behind the druid’s back, Dusk doubled over with silent laughter. _Gods strike her down,_ Lanna thought. _Or me, either one would be just fine_.

Halsin’s lips curved in a gentle smile and she feared she audibly gulped. She realized he was waiting for her to speak. Her name. _Introduction,_ she reminded herself.

“I’m Lanna, Bard of Elturel.” Somehow the styling felt less grand when saying it to a master druid. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Halsin.” By rote, she offered her hand. 

He surprised her by taking it and kissing it, meeting her eyes as he did. Her throat tightened; the chilly wagon suddenly seemed to be blazing hot as his lips left a burning brand where they touched her hand.

“The pleasure is mine, I’m sure,” he said. “It’s been long and long since we’ve heard from a bard. I can tell you must have a beautiful singing voice.” 

Lanna smiled dumbly. 

“Oh, she does,” Dusk jumped in. “She’s utterly... captivating. Don’t you think, master druid?”

She could stab the tiefling right through the eyes. But Halsin did not laugh or deflect. He held Lanna’s gaze and said, “Utterly.”

Dusk smirked at her. “Does it feel warm to you? It must be our body heat. Let me take your furs, Master Halsin.” The tiefling fairly tore his fur poncho from his shoulders. His smell, of the woods and of smoke, along with a whiff of something wild and musky filled the wagon. Lanna looked around at the humble wagon, the hand-stitched quilt still mussed from her sleep. Anywhere but the druid’s face, his wide shoulders, his tumble of brown hair. 

Dusk plucked her sleeve. “Perhaps you could sing us a song now, sweet Lanna? To while away the hour? Only, how long will it be before your companions return, Master Halsin?”

“My grove is not far, but in this blizzard, it could be quite some time,” Halsin said. “Hours, even.” She felt his gaze and lifted her eyes to meet his again. Divested of his furs, he seemed somehow even bigger. His arms were as thick as young oak trunks and the tattoo that twined down his cheek vanished down his throat into his chest guard. 

“Ah, I see,” Dusk said, her voice light and casual. “We’ll need to find some way to entertain ourselves, won’t we? Lanna, sing us ‘The Sweet Sighs of Corellon’? You know it’s my very favorite.”

She blanched. That song was near blasphemy-- _was_ blasphemy, if your audience was eladrin. 

But Halsin smiled. “I think I know that one. Rather a lusty tune, isn’t it? And a good finish.”

“That’s the one. Everyone loves a good finish, no?” Dusk said, shrugging her jacket off and snuggling close to the druid, who stared at Lanna in a way that was as much unnerving as it was thrilling.

She turned her attention down to her lute even as her heart pounded. But the song came to her spontaneously, as it always did; sweet and pure as the gods’ grace. She had only to hear a song once to remember it forever, words and melody. Lanna softened her voice when she reached the eponymous sighs of the elven god as he was overtaken by his ecstasy with the mortal woman and she was gratified to see the druid’s eyes close, a smile on his lips, as she lilted the song’s climax. 

After she thrummed the final note, the wagon had a new kind of stillness. The hush of possibility. 

“You are very beautiful,” Halsin finally said, claiming her with his eyes. Not the song, or her voice. _Her._ Her heart beat so that she heard her own pulse in her ears. She didn’t move or speak as he leaned forward to take her face in his hands and gently kiss her, stopping her breath with his touch.

He looked into her eyes when he pulled away to judge her expression. Lanna was distantly aware of Dusk’s presence on the druid’s other side and of her own reservations. But all was eclipsed by her desire. She dipped forward for another kiss, this one deeper, more dangerous. The druid took her lip between his teeth and she gasped, then opened her mouth to allow him in, her body becoming limp in his arms. He was so much bigger than she that she felt almost childlike in his embrace. 

Finally, their kiss broke and he whispered roughly in her ear, “so sweet.” And then Dusk’s hand found the collar of his breastplate, his chin. She turned his face to hers and claimed her own kiss from the druid as Lanna sat upon his lap. Beneath her thigh, she felt him stiffen. 

“What shall I do with you two?” he said, looking between them. Lanna’s face was ablaze but she would not back down now. She glanced to Dusk, allowing the tiefling to speak for them both.

“Whatever you like, Master Halsin,” Dusk said. Her smile was positively demonic.

“I warn you,” he said, addressing Lanna. His eyes were golden and green and blue all at once, a shade impossible to describe in song or verse. “I’m not known to be gentle.” It seemed he could sense her lack of experience and her blush deepened.

In answer, she shifted to straddle him, to rub against the hardness between his legs. He grunted, his hands finding her hips and pressing her more firmly onto his cock. She gasped, at the sensation itself and those it provoked in her.

“Be kind to her,” Dusk said, laughter in her voice. “She’s _quite_ the innocent.”

“Unlike you?” Halsin said, raising a hand to cup the tiefling’s breast over her bodice. He kissed Dusk again, even as he began grinding against Lanna. His hand found the bottom of her wool skirt and her bare legs beneath, warming them with a touch. She was not entirely the innocent but Lanna had never been made to feel such things before. Never had the clumsy embraces of her youthful dalliances drawn such gasps from her body. Never had she felt her body thrumming with desire as her lute thrummed with song when plucked.

His hand reached her silk drawers--it _had_ been a good year--and pushed them aside. He sighed when his fingers found what he was looking for. “So wet already,” he murmured, and she hoped that was a good thing. Dusk laughed and she felt an absurd twinge of embarrassment. She’d never be able to look the tumbler in the eye after this. But then she was lost in the sensation of the druid’s deft strokes. His thumb found the little nub at the top of her sex and she melted against his chest, distantly heard her own cries.

“She’s not going to last much longer if you keep that up,” Dusk said. Lanna looked up to see that somehow the tiefling’s bodice was off, that the druid was pleasuring her full breasts with his other hand. 

“And where would be the fun in that?” Halsin addressed Lanna but she could only blush, for she was far beyond words. She leaned against Halsin’s strong shoulder for support as his thumb swept down her lips for one final stroke before he withdrew his hand, leaving her panting.

“Watch us,” Dusk said. “And be instructed.” She pushed Lanna aside to slide the druid’s pants down his hips, revealing a cock that was breathtakingly large, even considering his size. Nearly as large as her forearm. As large as-- “Staring is rude, Lanna,” Dusk whispered with a cheeky smile. She knelt before the druid to take him into her mouth, deeper than it seemed possible. Heat swept through Lanna as her eyes connected with Halsin’s while the tiefling pleasured him; he seemed to penetrate her with her eyes as Dusk moaned against his cock. 

Drawn inexorably to him, Lanna leaned forward into a deep and lingering kiss that tasted of mulled wine. She could taste his groan as Dusk brought him closer to the edge. And then his finger was inside her again, his touch altogether rougher, less adroit. He jammed another finger into her, his kiss becoming almost punishingly fierce. She gasped and he only forced her harder, fingers scissoring inside her.

And then all the fight seemed to melt from his body with a groan. Satisfaction. He sighed and Dusk rose, licking her lips. Lanna sat back; she assumed it was over.

But they were far from finished. The druid’s grim smile told her as much as he wrenched her bodice from her breast. “I have enough for both of you,” he whispered roughly into her ear as the boning snapped under his hands. Anticipation and desire made her head swim; dimly, she perceived Dusk watching them from the corner of the wagon, skirts around her knees and fingers to her cunt.

He took her breasts in his hand, fingers skimming her nipples as he trailed her neck in wet, rough kisses. She felt a softening, an inflorescence as her body opened to him. “Gods,” she moaned involuntarily. He pressed himself against her and she delighted in the weight of him. The roaring wind outside the wagon picked up again, rocking them slightly, and the additional pressure only enhanced the sensation. She wrapped herself around him, both surrendering and claiming him at once, tasting the hot of his breath, his woody scent. 

“Girl,” he growled, lifting her skirts. She felt him hard again already against her belly and rose up against him, savoring his gasp. 

From miles away, Dusk’s voice: “Better to take her from atop, I think--you’ll break her, elsewise.” She could barely parse the tiefling’s meaning, for she existed in a realm of pure sensation. She had lost herself entirely in him.

A circle of sweet fire as he entered her, pain and pleasure in even measure. She heard herself cry out, felt hands digging down into the flesh of her hips, saw, over the druid’s muscled shoulder, Dusk’s watchful, hungry gaze. But the feeling soon consumed all other perception, and her with it. Her hips jerked involuntarily and she felt herself release. He held her tightly through it, lips pressed to her brow, still thrusting relentlessly into her.

She grasped his shoulders, damp with sweat, pressing her face into his muscled chest to stifle her moan. His hands now wrapped in her hair, tugging it, a dull pain in counterpoint to the sweet sting below where he thrust into her, achingly slowly. Lanna whimpered, her senses overwhelmed. Into her ear, soft enough for only her to hear, he whispered, “Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” she breathed. Another climax consumed her and she cried out against him. This time he lost control, his thrusts increasing in tempo and force. Even in her ecstasy, she felt a twinge of animal fear at the size and strength of him as he rose above her with the power of a tidal wave. He pulled back her hair to reveal her throat and kissed it as he came; she felt the molten surge of his release and sank into his arms, utterly spent. 

Dusk regarded Lanna with a wicked smile from the other side of the wagon as she caught her breath, the druid still inside her. The tiefling crawled over to them on her hands and knees to embrace him from the other side, turning his head to kiss him deeply, catching his moan in her open mouth. 

With a gentle stroke down Lanna’s front and a soft kiss, Halsin slid out of her and Lanna sighed, lying back onto the quilt. She watched as he knelt over Dusk, who parted her knees for him as he began to pleasure her with his mouth. Now the wagon filled with the tiefling’s moans and sighs, her fragrance. Lanna closed her eyes, listening to her gasp.

When she looked back, Dusk’s hands were wound in the druid’s hair, her leg wrapped around his strong back, while the tiefling’s own was arched in rapture, her hips rising from the wagon floor. The wind moaned against the wagon as though in sympathy, and Lanna found her hand wandering to the sopping wetness between her legs, which throbbed in the aftermath of her own pleasure. Even through the haze of her rapture, Dusk saw her and smiled as she watched Lanna touch herself. 

“Oh, hells, I’m coming,” Dusk gasped, hips bucking as her sweet scent filled the air, her nails raking over the druid’s back and drawing thin seams of blood. Halsin growled and perhaps he bit Dusk in return, because she yelped and her climax deepened. It was enough to send Lanna over the edge a third time and she closed her eyes, lost again to her senses.

Finally, panting, she opened them again to find Dusk sprawled out, her long legs loosely wrapped around Halsin’s torso, one arm thrown over her face in a gesture of total surrender. The druid gently extricated himself and pulled Lanna over to him, cradling her and Dusk both against his chest.

“That’s one way to keep from freezing to death,” Dusk murmured. She sounded half asleep or perhaps drugged. 

Halsin chuckled, little more than a chuff of breath as he idly stroked down Lanna’s side with one finger. The sensation sent shivers down her body. “This has been quite the Midwinter feast,” he said. "One I'll never forget."

She never knew it could be like this, that such pleasures were available to her. Would she know such joy again? The bard rested her head against the druid’s warmth and locked eyes with Dusk, whose knowing smile responded with an unambiguous answer.


End file.
